Five Bestselling Travel Memoirs Box Set

by Twead, Victoria

  “Well, now that we apparently have a camel friend, what should we call him?” Mom asked.

  “Chewy!” I suggested.

  “Like Chewbacca from Star Wars. Good name!” Bree added. “He sounds just like him.”

  “Man, you guys pissed him off royally!” Ammon marvelled, not for the first time.

  “And you should have seen him drop-kick Bree! It was hilari---” I was halted mid-sentence by Bree’s glare, and backtracked as quickly as I could. “It was totally not cool and mean. Bad, Chewy, bad! And because all he does is chew and chew. Do you see how he swallows and then brings it up again and chews some more,” I added.

  “Disgusting!” Mom said.

  “You can even see it going down, like a tennis ball ….” A long discussion that began with regurgitation eventually led to the evolution of dolphins from dogs, which led to the random hypothesis that your forearm is the same length as your foot, which led to more of the same inane kinds of things we often got into. Meanwhile, Bree left for a brief visit with nature. When she hadn’t returned fifteen minutes later, I got to thinking about the little bit of toilet paper she had taken, and debated whether she truly had to go, or if she was perhaps simply avoiding Ammon’s spiel again. It turned out that neither was the case.

  “Look what I caught!” she announced excitedly when she finally came back, holding out her hands to show us. The lizard’s head was slightly oversized for his skinny body. It was the same shape as a bearded dragon, but much smaller and had no spikes. Its colouring was striped with green and blue meshing into brownish grey scales. It reminded me of the mating pair of gorgeous geckos I’d given away before this trip. They’d had soft marshmallow-like bellies and enormous round eyes that looked like green marbles with silver threads sinking into another universe.

  “How on earth did you catch that?” I asked baffled.

  “You savage!” Ammon congratulated her. “You were meant to live in the wild!”

  “Oh good, that’ll be perfect for dinner,” Mom said. “Go catch some more.” She handed one of our empty water bottles to me and instructed me to go with her.

  “Geez! Just what I always wanted, lizard soup,” I smiled.

  “Hah! You wish. Not unless you’re planning to use camel blood as stock.”

  “That’s sick, Ammon,” Mom protested.

  “And that’s coming from someone who wants to eat lizard sandwiches,” he retorted.

  “C’mon Norman,” I said, quickly naming the lizard, “let’s go find your friends.” I’d thought there was nothing out there in the desert, but there was actually a lot more life in the harsh terrain than you might expect. The skinny, palm-length lizards darted around our bare feet in the relative coolness of late afternoon. As we leapt around chasing after them, they dashed quickly from tuft to tuft of grass on their hind legs, holding their tails erect in the air. They were astonishingly easy to catch, providing you were willing to dive onto your belly in the fine gravel with your arms outstretched, and we were. We developed an effective lizard-hunting method, going from bush to bush to chase them out into the open where we could pounce on them.

  “Okay, okay, I got him. Quick! Bring the bottle!” Bree would shout at me. I’d come over holding the bottle carefully to keep them from being squished, jumping and tiptoeing between low shrubs and then skidding in on my knees beside where she huddled on all fours, her hands cupped securely on the ground.

  “Okay, careful now. Careful! Okay, and whoop!” she’d say, dropping another one in to land on the pile of brothers and sisters.

  When we returned with a prize-winning collection of beautiful lizards, Ammon was busy writing in his journal. Mom had already finished one of her typical, two-sentence-long journal entries: “We are sitting here stuck. Refer to Savannah or Ammon’s journals for more details.” She was now busy sewing flag patches to the rain jacket of her backpack. Praising our success in providing for the family, she grabbed the bottle to examine the fourteen Normans.

  “Aaww, Normy, you’re so cute. You want to meet our other pet, Chewy? Say hi to Chewy!” she said, holding the bottle of lizards up so they could see him amiably chewing and regurgitating the shrub he was tied to. Passing the bottle back, she went on with her project.

  “Mom, you’re nuts,” Ammon said.

  “Well, sewing on the Mongolian flag patch may be the last thing I ever do in this life,” she joked, as she repetitively pushed and pulled the needle to finish the task at hand.

  Chapter 41: Awaiting our Future

  We had yet to see a soul eight painful hours later. Even Chewy’s friends had not come back for him. Stranded and lost out in the desert, we were completely vulnerable. My stomach started to growl, despite my efforts to maintain control. You’re not hungry. You’re not hungry. I had gone longer than this without food before, but with worry about our situation nagging at me, I started imagining camel steaks. I knew we could survive at least a couple of days on Chewy’s meat, but hoped it wouldn’t come to that. For one thing, we would eat the lizards raw first. I wondered how long it would be before we’d have to do that. It seemed a bit of a waste to eat such beautiful lizards. We tried to play cards, but my mind wasn’t in it, and I lost a few rounds in a row. Mom appeared unbothered, Bree was happy to be winning at my expense, and Ammon was in control as always. I was amazed that they could wait so calmly.

  The sound of crunching caught my attention first, and I caught sight of a small horse with an oversized rider heading towards us. My heart leapt as I smacked Mom, who was dealing the next hand onto the bench and my knees.

  Typically, though, my initial reaction to the approaching rider – Thank the Lord, we’re saved! – quickly became – Yikes! What if it’s the camel’s owner? We have Future’s note, but it probably doesn’t say anything about Chewy. How will we ever explain to him that we weren’t trying to steal it?! Geez, this must look so bad. We just wanted to eat him if we got really hungry. Oh man, he’s going to kill us! I almost expected the rider to have the kind of shiny spurs at his ankles and a gun strapped into a leather holster that you’d see in an old western.

  As the stranger rode up I was just beginning to make out the faint outline of his face when Bree shouted, “FUTURE!!” Imaginary background music played as he rode in triumphantly on his newly acquired horse. I could’ve kissed him! I’d never been so happy to see anyone in my life.

  Stepping from the van, Ammon greeted him casually with a smile, “Good to see you, Future, but if you brought us a horse to help Chewy pull the van, I don’t think this one will work.” Future’s steed was no bigger than a donkey and even skinnier than others we’d seen.

  “Where on earth did you get a horse?!” Mom then voiced the next obvious question. “And where’d the kid with the bike come from?!” In our excitement, we hadn’t noticed the little boy trailing behind Future on a blue bicycle.

  “And how did you get turned around like that?!” Ammon asked, wondering how he’d managed to come in from the opposite direction he’d left from. Future swung his leg over the horse and practically walked off it before he began a very animated re-enactment of his adventure.

  “See black mountains? I walk to there! But no one home, so I climbing in roof and taking a rice for you. In my hat, I taking it. From there, I see another ger, so I keep walking. So, so tired. Then, then, when closer, I see smoke in chimney so I running. When I hearing dog, I am crying, I am so happy! I was knowing there was somebody home.” When he arrived, tired and thirsty, they welcomed him, just as we’d been welcomed at so many gers we’d stopped at along the way. Once he was revived, they provided him with the horse and the boy to start a search and rescue party. He’d given his hat full of stolen rice to the family living there. “Then I come. I coming for you!” A delighted smile was stamped on his face. He almost forgot to give us the jug of water he’d brought back; we quickly guzzled it down.

  I was amazed that he had found his way back after hours of wandering the desert. I tried to imagine how in this w
orld he managed to walk as far as the first ger where no one was home, and then walk to the ger he saw from there to circle around and come up behind us. Since the sun was rapidly setting, we had to focus on packing up and getting back to the young boy’s ger. We left the van there in the desert after loading our gear onto the backs of Chewy and the horse.

  “Oh, wait. There’s one more thing.” I let all the Normans go as the spare tire was being fastened onto the horse’s wooden saddle. As if someone’s going to steal our spare tire out here!

  Future and Ammon took the lead with the camel that carried four backpacks tied together and slung between its humps. The boy pushed his bike and kept up with us effortlessly. Bree and I walked side-by-side pulling the horse, and Mom made sure the spare tire didn’t fall off the saddle. I turned back every so often to watch the van get smaller and smaller. The ger was forty-five minutes away, “in that direction,” but we hardly noticed the walk at all. We’d been saved.

  A second, “supposed-to-be-white” horse was tied to the fence of a poopy, goatless goat pen next to the two gers. The family consisted of grandparents and their two grandchildren: the boy with the bike and a younger sister. The children’s parents worked in Ulaanbaatar to provide for their family and came home only occasionally to visit and bring supplies. The grandparents were both worn and small, their skin leathery and darkened over the years by the sun.

  The smaller of the two gers was used for storage, and we found the grandpa busy cleaning it out for our use as we arrived. When Future told us that, my heart swelled in response to them and their unreserved hospitality.

  We released Chewy once we’d stored our backpacks in the storage ger, but he didn’t seem to understand that we were freeing him when he was untied.

  “Shoo, shoo. Go! Be free!” we shouted at him, but it had no effect. Seemingly indifferent to states of freedom or captivity, he hung around for quite some time before finally wandering off. I did feel a little sad at the time and hoped he would be able to find his friends again.

  The rice provided by Future and the unsuspecting, absent neighbours was already cooking, and we were ushered into the family’s ger for salty, milky tea. As desperate as I was for water, I drank the hot, salty liquid and tried not to wince too obviously. At least we’re safe, but now what? How long are we going to be stuck here? I thought, staring down into my cup, knowing I would have to finish every last drop before I could have some dinner because the family rarely had this many guests at once and owned only a few dishes.

  The sustenance from the black pot was warm, well intended, and very much appreciated, so I choked it down. I didn’t ask for seconds and decided to eat the hard, if slightly more palatable, flour biscuits instead.

  After dinner, Future told us his plan. “Ammon, you come. Neighbour has car, we go to him.” Future, Ammon, the boy and his dog left. Absent our trusty leader and translator, I once again felt stranded, this time with elderly folk who looked like they might fall over dead at any given moment.

  Ammon and Mom had both warned us not to count on getting back to the capital tomorrow. We gave up waiting for him to return around midnight, and Mom told us, “Well, I guess he’ll be back later. Let’s just leave the candle burning so he can see when he comes in.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  When I woke the next morning, Ammon was sleeping next to me. His dark brown mop shooting out from the tangled, green sleeping bag reminded me of a hairy caterpillar.

  “What time did you get in last night? And tell us what happened,” I said, as I unravelled my feet from a wool blanket.

  “Starting from what point?” he asked, crawling out of his cocoon.

  “The beginning.” I slithered over to the bowl on the floor and reached for one of the hard biscuits. “From the time you left.” The usual thick, sheep hairs weren’t hard to find, but the biscuits were so stale and dense that the hairs broke off inside and were impossible to avoid.

  “Well, we went off trying to find the neighbour up and over some hills in that direction,” he started, waving his hand to show us, “looking for the ger which we eventually spotted in the distance. When we got close to it, the guy’s five dogs came charging out at us, barking like crazy. Future actually swung the kid around to protect him, kind of thing!”

  “He used the kid as a shield?!” Bree interrupted.

  “No, silly! Behind his back! So the kid wouldn’t get mauled by the dogs. Then some dude came out of the ger and yelled at the dogs. They stopped right in front of us, just before we were attacked and made into minced meat. It was kind of scary, actually. They were big dogs!”

  “Yah, I know. I’ve seen ’em. Those dogs are insane!” Mom agreed.

  “So then he invited us inside.” The household consisted of the man, his wife, and one daughter. Ammon told us the man appeared to be a miserable drunk, but Future informed him of our problem over tea. The ferocious looking dogs were still glaring in at them from the doorway only a few feet away. The man didn’t have a car, but he did have a couple of simple, basic tools. Eventually they agreed on a course of action and headed out to take a look at our vehicle.

  “So off we marched, up and over the hills and up and over more hills, and we somehow ended up exactly where the van was. I don’t know how that happened! I was totally lost. It all looks the same out there to me!” He was still struggling to comprehend the Mongolians’ amazing navigational skills.

  Once back at the van, the men gathered around to inspect the damage before crawling under to see what they could do. Because the protective shield was inconveniently sitting in the trunk, the oil pan had been bashed almost beyond recognition. They started trying to fix it using Future’s cell phone as a light, but decided against it given its limited battery life. Future then promptly sent the boy to collect shrubs and twigs so they could light a little fire next to the neighbour, who was on his back hammering away. At this point in Ammon’s story, I was shaking my head and thinking, Is it totally crazy that they apparently had a small fire under the car, or is it just me?

  Whatever the case, it must have worked, but it was fully dark by the time Future told Ammon, “Okay this is take a while. It not be quick fix. Go back to ger and sleep.” When Ammon asked him how the hell he was supposed to find his way back, he replied, in typical Future fashion, “Yes, following kid. You go. Sleeping.”

  “So then the kid, the dog and I walked back in the dark. I had no clue who knew the way, the dog or the kid, but I just picked a star on the horizon and followed it, and after over a half-an-hour I was, like, ‘Okay, are we lost? What the hell?’ but I couldn’t talk to the kid anyway, so I thought, ‘They seem confident enough, so I’ll just go along.’ A bit after that I saw a tiny light in the ger and made it back to you guys.” He ended his tale with a nod and a big bite of his biscuit.

  “Wow, you did have an adventure.” Mom said.

  “It was kind of scary,” he admitted.

  “I would’ve died!” I said, but I was amazed by the kind of trust these people shared.

  “So what’s the verdict for today, then?” Bree asked.

  “Well, last I saw, they were under the van banging away. I really doubt they’ll get it fixed. So the next option is waiting to get a ride. There will be transport at some point. Didn’t Future say the kids’ parents come with supplies? It could be days, weeks, months – who knows?” Ammon waved her concern off and looked like he was prepared to become the little nomadic family’s adopted son.

  “But can’t they get word out? They must be in some kind of contact,” Mom said, taking her turn at a hairy biscuit.

  “Nope. They just have to wait. I don’t think they have postal service, and what use would a cell phone be way out here without any reception?” he asked. “Future couldn’t use his, except as a flashlight. Nobody has transport, and that scrawny horse isn’t going to get very far. The neighbour didn’t have a car, only some tools. We’re not getting out of here tonight, let’s just say that. Or were you guys thinking of maybe ty
ing all the goats to the front like reindeer and flying to U.B.?” he added when he noticed our dirty, disappointed faces.

  “I’ll just die if I have to eat another bowl of that disgusting, nasty---”

  “Don’t even go there, Savannah,” Ammon warned without looking at me.

  “Horrendous,” I continued in the background, “fat-tailed, lard-butt---”

  “Stop it!!” Ammon growled, this time training his cold, blue eyes on me. “We get it, alright?!” I pinched my lips together until he turned away again.

  Watching cautiously, as if for a swinging backhand, I finished my sentence quietly with, “dead sheep,” and immediately felt a bit better.

  “Well, how long do you think it’ll take?” Mom asked. I couldn’t believe how desperately I wanted to be back in the hostel that had initially made me cringe. I’m so stupid not to appreciate the luxury of food, a bed, and a shower. Gosh, it seemed so safe there, with people and vehicles and communication and everything. Every day, I realized more just how much I’d taken these simple things for granted back home, and even back in Ulaanbaatar. My grateful thoughts were interrupted, though, because just then, the little wooden door to our ger swung open and Bree shouted, “FUTURE!”

  “Oh, ho, ho. Good morning!” he chuckled as he burst into the room. “We go! We are go!”

  “What do you mean? You found a car?”

  “No, my car. Is good! Is fix,” he announced as he stepped aside to let us see it there outside the door. Our eyes adjusted to the sunlight as gradually as our minds adjusted to the miracle of the resurrected car.

  “We are go!”

  Chapter 42: Last Lap Before a New Start

  “Do you want to hear joking?” Future asked, possibly for the hundredth time. “I making funny jokes.”

  “Oh no, not again!” we laughed, amazed that he was not yet bored with his homemade jokes.

  “Ammon and some friends swimming in the beautiful lake. Suddenly some girls crying from beach, ‘Look, look. Is that crocodile?’” Future squirmed, howling again at his favourite part. “‘Hurry up guys, they have dangerous crocodile. Let’s come out water.’ Every guys quickly come out from water, but Ammon not. Only crocodile slowly swimming and coming near the beach and stands up, and asking, ‘what’s happened?’ in human language. But everybody knowing the crocodile was not real crocodile – was Ammon!” Future banged his head against the headrest in a fit of laughter. “Oh Ammon, so funny!”